Ignominy
by Vinyaya
Summary: Albus has an enormous family, extremely famous parents, a clearly insane brother, a cousin with no moral compass and a best friend with dimples who recites Hogwarts:A History. Oh, and his grandfather collects plugs.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is going to be a very simple, non-drama-ful fic. I don't intend on any big things happening, because I really want to focus more on character and relationship development than anything else. This is definitely going to be an Albus/Scorpius slash pairing in the later chapters. That being said, I hope you enjoy the story! And please leave a review, because I enjoy those.

Disclaimer: No, I do not own anything Harry Potter related.

_**~~~IGNOMINY~~~**_

**THE JOURNAL OF ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER**

**September 7th, 2017**

It really is so like Rosie. Honestly. Sometimes she's so silly and headstrong, and she always drags me into things, without a single thought for my well-being. It's so unfair of her. And selfish. Don't forget selfish.

We were all right the first week. Got sorted into Gryffindor and everything, thankfully. I milked the upper hand I had on James for a few days, but he's an absolute prat, so of course he threatened me with blackmail if I took the mickey out of him any longer for being wrong about me getting sorted into Slytherin. Although, to be fair, I probably would be there right now, if the hat had its way. But nobody is ever going to know that. Well, until I'm too famous for it to matter, at any rate.

Anyway. I got off topic there. I was talking about Rose Weasley and her silly whims and fancies. Suddenly, she wants to pal up with Scorpius Malfoy. I mean, he got sorted into Gryffindor too, so he can't be all bad, but, well, Dad and his father were mortal enemies and stuff! I have to uphold the family honour! Especially since James is doing such an abysmal job of it! I mean, don't I have a duty to the Potter name or something? When I told Rosie, of course, she told me to stuff it. But I'm sure it's written somewhere. All this code of honour stuff.

I really don't have anything against Malfoy personally. We'd ended up sitting in the same carriage as him on our trip here, and he seemed all right. Bit quiet, I thought. Isn't that the sort one's supposed to watch out for? He seemed okay, I suppose. Polite, and all that jazz. Dunno. I suppose it would be a bit awful to automatically refuse to be his mate just because of his dad and everything. Honestly. Rosie. She was all agog the first week we were here. But the novelty's worn off, apparently. Because, and I know, the only reason she's doing this is because she's bored. I know she is. I mean, this is what our year looks like:

**Gryffindor: **Albus Potter (family)

Rosie Weasley (family)

Amanda Bones (met once or twice at large social gatherings)

Molly Weasley (the second, family)

Bert Creevey (parents are close friends)

Kaydence Christianson (Muggleborn)

Ashleigh McConaughey (Muggleborn)

Scorpius Malfoy (parents were mortal enemies)

**Hufflepuff: **Louis Weasley (family)

Penelope Macmillan (parents are friendly)

Jessica Summers (social gatherings)

Olivia Boot (parents are friendly)

Alex Finnegan (parents are close friends)

Calvin Ritter (Muggleborn)

**Ravenclaw:** Roxie Weasley (family)

Jessica Corner (parents are friendly)

Jeremy Wood (parents are close friends)

Gavin Baker (Muggleborn)

Sophie Chase (Muggleborn)

**Slytherin:** Sebastian Nott (social gatherings)

Fergus Warrington (social gatherings)

Brianna Pucey (social gatherings)

Heather Parkinson (Scorpius's cousin)

Wesley Derrick (social gatherings)

You see? We know everybody but the Muggleborns. And, really, Rosie and I, we're well versed in the ways of Muggles. They're not exciting to us anymore. And we've met everyone else at Ministry parties and the like. Everyone. Except Scorpius. Everyone knows his dad's a bit of a recluse. My dad says he thinks it's possible that Scorpius's dad's actually ashamed of the stuff he's done, and he's trying to live it down a bit by being a recluse. That's just the sort of person my dad is. He believes in everyone.

Anyway, so I'm pretty sure I've got Rosie's reasons for the sudden interest in Malfoy perfectly right. And because I'm her lovely, protective cousin and best mate to boot, I suppose I shall have to pal up with him too. When I am famous, the sacrifices I make for my family will be celebrated. More than they are now, at any rate.

**September 8th, 2017**

It's not just our year. My family is EVERYWHERE. And they poke their noses into EVERYTHING.

I have decided to write in this journal to chronicle my formative years. I am doing this because I know that one day, this will be a ridiculously important document, and will sell for many millions of galleons. The original will be a collector's item. Writing in this journal does not make me a "little girl with pigtails", IF you will, James Sirius Potter. URGH. I am so tired of him and Freddie trying to sneak into my satchel and steal it. I will have to learn some complicated protective enchantments immediately.

It's really awful, being a first year.

Vicky is in the seventh year, and is a prefect. She is really bitter about the fact that she didn't get made Head Girl. Nicky is in the fourth year, and she appears to think it's her duty to mother us all. Except she is terrible at it, being the least responsible person I know. Then there's Muggle Cousin Dudley's wizard-spawn, Getrude Dursley, in the third year. She's all right, if a little shy, but I suppose I would be too if I were as unfortunate-looking. Then, of course, there's James and Freddie, both in the second year and both obnoxious in the extreme. Louis is in our year. He's stoic. There's not much as can be said about our Louis. He's a lot like Hugo except with less speaking. Roxie, on the other hand, can rival almost anybody with her endless stream of chitchat. I like her well enough, but really, even though all four of us are the same age, Rosie and I are definitely a lot closer. I mean, of course, Rosie's my best mate. We grew up in each other's backyards. I don't think there's anything I wouldn't tell her. Not that I mean to get sappy or anything. We're just partners in crime and always have been. I don't think I'd understand the world any other way.

This journal is getting very contemplative. And while that's not a bad thing, I'm sure future readers will like to hear something about the goings-on in this era. I shan't disappoint you, my faithful fans.

All right. So Rosie pursued Scorpius, with me lagging behind half-heartedly. Our efforts seemed to amuse him, every time we'd corner him and squeeze out a conversation, he'd look like he was having a private joke. It was rather frustrating, but Rosie is good at taking these things in stride and brushing away other people's sentiments so she can concentrate on her own.

James noticed our pursuit of Scorpius, which is surprising in itself, because James is generally thick as a concussed flobberworm. But he noticed, which led him to pay a little attention to Scorpius himself. Which led to our James taking a bit of a shine to him, it appears. He's so chuffed that Gryffindor claimed a Death Eater's son that he simply loves Scorpius. Apparently, Scorpius is now the embodiment of Light's victory over Dark. I will never understand how my brother's mind works.

**September 9th, 2017**

James and Freddie have turned the hair of all the Gryffindor first years red and gold. There was clearly something in our pumpkin juice, because it happened at breakfast and has not worn out yet. They were in hysterics, and didn't even bother to deny it, because really, what could we do to them? They said it was their way of "welcoming us into the fold". But I know James. He just wanted to turn our hair red and gold. For fun.

Scorpius thinks James is dead funny. I knew something was wrong with him from the start. It's always the quiet ones. The two Muggleborns in our year and our house were torn between amusement and horror. I don't think they know if it's going to wear off or not. I suggested to Rosie that we might take them under our wings for a bit, since they seem a bit lost even now. Kaydence is a pleasant bloke with an accent I can't quite place. He has hair of a sort of nondescript colour. It's very interesting, because it seems to take on the colour of whatever he's around, or at least a tinge of it. It might be because it's almost colourless, but this sort of thing is very fascinating to me, because I'm a genius and I notice things that are offbeat. Ashleigh is blonde and the sort of girl who likes attention, but in a silly, soppy way. I don't dislike her, but she has about the same personality traits as a piece of wood. If pieces of wood giggled a lot.

Scorpius is on board with the idea of taking them under our collective wing. Something tells me he hasn't had much in the way of friends before. He seems to be enjoying companionship almost too much. Although something always seems to amuse him at random intervals, and his private-joke smile pops into view.

**September 10th, 2017**

Professor Longbottom is a nutter.

I've always known this. We grew up with Professor Longbottom, except we've always known him as Uncle Neville. But I won't write Uncle Neville in this journal because I'm trying to get used to calling him Professor Longbottom. We had Herbology this morning, with the Hufflepuffs. It was the first real Herbology lesson we've had, the one before being only introductory. We were made to work with this scruffy-looking shrub called a whistling turnip. It has turnip-like roots, and, surprise surprise, it whistles. Not all the time, apparently it only whistles when someone is plotting against you. Alex Finnegan was delighted. He doesn't like me very much. He never did, I suppose, but he's seemed to have quite a grudge against me ever since I got sorted into Gryffindor but he was put in Hufflepuff. His dad was a Gryffindor, same year as my dad, so I suppose he wanted his kid to be a Gryffindor. And I expect being sorted into Hufflepuff is a bit of a slap in the face. It basically means you don't fit in anywhere else.

Alex has made rather good friends with Calvin Ritter. Both of them sat down together and made plans to throw me into the black lake and snickered about it, and it made my stupid Whistling Turnip whistle on and on, nearly driving me crazy much to their glee. Eventually, when I was reaching the end of my tether, I yelled at them to stop it! And promptly got awarded a detention. As though it was my fault.

Rosie says it's some sort of a guilt complex thing. Apparently, according to her, Professor Longbottom is so afraid that he might show favouritism towards any of our family that he's being extra hard on us without realizing it. In other words, he's a nutter. And now I have to scrub trophies in the, surprise surprise again, trophy room. Lucky me.

**September 14th, 2017**

James is being infuriating. He was annoying me at supper and teasing me about being a little girl again, which is his fallback when he has nothing else to annoy me about, so I teased him back about how he used to draw a scar, like Dad's, on his forehead when he was a lot younger. He went scarlet. We are in the common room now and he has produced two bottles of Butterbeer. I can't believe this. Where could he possibly get Butterbeer from? He offered some to Scorpius and Rosie, but when I asked for a bit, he laughed at me and refused. He keeps saying I might get drunk because I'm a little girl. No one older than about six gets drunk on Butterbeer, so that's his idea of an insult, I suppose. I don't understand how he and I are related at all. I'm a child prodigy and he's a glorified ape.

He's waving the bottle in my face now. Like the scent of it is supposed to send me into a frenzy of desire or something. Freddie is hanging about in the background, giggling.

"Stop writing in that silly book!" James says. "Don't you ever look up?"

"Go away, James," I tell him. "If you're not going to give me any, then I don't understand why you're prancing around me like an idiot."

"Call me an idiot again, and I won't tell you how I got the Butterbeer."

Of course I want to know how he got it. But I know he won't tell me, not even if I offered to become his personal house elf for a week. So I'm not going to bother apologizing.

"Don't you want to know???" he says in a sing-song voice. An ape. Honestly.

**September 19th, 2017**

Today, I woke up with an extra nostril. I am not joking. I have three nostrils.

This is the last straw. James has had it. I am going to get my revenge on him if it's the last thing I do.

I have enlisted Rosie as my aide. We are going to prank James into oblivion. We are deep in search of a plan to embarrass him as of now. When we have thought of one, we are going to execute it in such a manner that there will be no proof that it was us. I am hoping that on top of embarrassing him, we can land him in detention. Rosie is very enthusiastic. She really has a penchant for evil schemes.

We have decided to let Scorpius be a part of our little scheming society. He doesn't have any siblings of his own, and we thought this might be a learning experience for him. He is very excited, although he tries not to show it. His private-joke smile is here in full force. He has dimples. They look very odd, and not evil in the least. If his dad has them too, I will find it _very_ hard to visualize him as a former Death Eater.

We thought of a plan at breakfast. It is lunch right now, and if we've done everything right, or really, if Rosie has done everything right, things should be happening right about now. Oh yes, here we go. The ceiling is changing colour. The best thing about having lunch in the Great Hall is that the ceiling can be used as a screen. It is, basically, a giant scrying surface. Usually the scrying charm on it is used to make it look like the sky outside, but today, we altered it. In the beginning, Scorpius came up with the idea that I should use some of my inside knowledge of the embarrassing tales from his childhood to mortify him in front of his peers. Rosie then came up with the idea that we could use the ceiling of the Great Hall. I wanted to put one of my memories up like a film, but Rosie is a spoilsport ("We're just first years, Albus, I don't think we'll be able to do that. You can barely turn a matchstick into a needle. Blah blah blah,") so instead, we've decided to put a picture of James at six years old, standing there absolutely starkers. Oh, and even better, he's tucked his little thing between his legs, so he looks like a little girl. The picture has James Potter written on it, so that nobody is in any doubt as to who the kid is. And Rosie is absolutely brilliant, because she has managed to get the ceiling to display the picture. I'm almost sure that even fourth years couldn't pull a spell like that off. It only held up for about a minute, but it was good enough.

James is mortified. I think he might cry. My fingers are crossed. Haha, James. I still have three nostrils, you massive git!

**September 23rd, 2017**

I still have three nostrils. James won't tell me the countercurse. I hate him. He says he would have changed them back the same day if I hadn't pulled the ceiling trick. Worse, he didn't even get detention for it. The teachers weren't very sympathetic, but they all decided he couldn't have anything to do with it. It's _so_ unfair. He didn't even cry, at least not in front of me. I think I might have to visit Madam Patil in the Hospital Wing if I ever want to look normal again.

We have flying lessons in a few days. I'm excited, because I haven't flown since we got here and it's been a while. I don't like going without flying. I think it's a stupid rule that first years aren't allowed to have brooms of their own. Only the ones who know how to fly would have their own brooms in the first place, and they wouldn't injure themselves if they knew how to fly, would they? And what makes second years qualified to have their own brooms if first years can't? That's like saying James is more responsible than I am, and it's a ridiculous notion. Doesn't stop him from shoving his Thunderbolt in my face anyway. Stupid idiot.

Rosie has made rather good friends with the girls in our year. I don't think Rosie has ever had female friends before. Except Lily, but Lily is insane, so I don't think that counts. Lily has too much fun in her own head to be able to make a good friend for anybody. Also, she's a kid, and Rosie's insanely old for her age. Although you wouldn't think it if you saw her with Amanda Bones and Ashleigh McConaughey (our Molly usually hangs about with Roxie, because they grew up together like me and Rosie did). They're always giggling. Why do girls giggle so much when they're in bunches together? It's very odd.

She was very offended when I asked her what they were giggling at, though.

"We do _not_ giggle," she said, tossing her head in that Rosie way of hers.

"Well, what were you laughing at then," I asked.

"None of your business," she told me, which is ridiculous, because Rosie has never not told me stuff.

"You're just being stroppy," I argued.

"Thanks, Albus. Now you'll never know," and she walked off in a huff. Scorpius thought it was hilarious. I settled for rolling my eyes, and saying "girls!" in a meaningful, wise-sounding manner.

**September 28th, 2017**

We had flying lessons today, with the Slytherins. Rosie and I shot off into the air and looped and dove with perfect ease, of course. Scorpius knows how to fly too, but he didn't make a show of it. Madam Chang accused us of showing off, and said in a snide way, "we all know your mother used to fly for the Harpies, Potter. You don't have to show us every move in your repertoire." Of course, considering her profession is teaching snot-nosed eleven-year-olds how to handle a broomstick and referee the occasional Quidditch match when nobody else wants to, one has to wonder at how much of her snideness stems from bitterness. Also, if I'm not wrong, she had some sort of sordid dalliance with my dad when he was at Hogwarts. I suppose losing both career-wise _and_ man-wise to my mum must really be awful. I am a genius for figuring this out! I hadn't thought of it before, actually, it's just come to me while writing it.

Scorpius was very friendly with some of the Slytherins. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, considering his dad was in Slytherin, and the people in it now might well be the kids of Scorpius's dad's contemporaries. He probably grew up with them. It's odd to think of, now. I mean, it wouldn't have been when I met Scorpius, I suppose, but he's such a Gryffindor to me now, I can't think of any other house for him. He has a cousin in Slytherin too, but he doesn't seem too fond of her, judging by the faces they made at each other throughout the lesson.

Come to think of it, Teddy is Scorpius's cousin too. I know because he goes to visit the Malfoys about once a year or something. I've never thought anything of it. From what Teddy's told us after these occasions, apparently it's just a sort of formal dinner, and Mrs. Malfoy is rather proper, but seems all right, and Mr. Malfoy is half-embarrassed, half-trying to make an effort. I distinctly remember Teddy saying "The kid's a topper though. He's shy, but he seems like he'd like a good bit of fun as much as anyone." It's very strange to think he was talking about Scorpius, now that's Scorpius is… well, Scorpius. He has fit in with us perfectly, I think. I mean, we're being equally friendly with everyone, and we've taken Kaydence and Ashleigh under our wing (they were really grateful of it at flying, I can tell you), but Scorpius has assumed the role of third best mate, I think. I think. I'm not giving away any titles yet. Also, I'm going to have to consult Rosie.

In other news, I have two nostrils again. I wrote to Mum. James got a howler. I'm an awful brother and I love it.

**October 5th, 2017**

It's Rosie's birthday. She's twelve already. Vicky thought it would be nice to have a party, so she has set one up in the Gryffindor Common Room. There are a lot of girly decorations and glitter and stuff, but it doesn't look half bad, really. All of Gryffindor is invited, which is stupid because nobody really knows Rosie. I mean, she _is_ only a first year. Her birthday is probably only an excuse to have a party for most of Gryffindor. Vicky also told us we could invite friends from other houses. Our cousins Louis and Roxie are coming, of course, and we've also invited Penelope Macmillan, Jeremy Wood, and Sophie Chase, because we know them from a few classes, and they are nice.

The party is going all right. The older Gryffindors didn't bother to come, thankfully. James and Freddie produced lots of Butterbeer and chocolate, and let me have some, so I'm feeling quite fond of them right now.

Scratch that: I just threw up. Turns out they put a puking pastille in my Butterbeer. Oh, you are going to PAY for that one, James Sirius Potter.

I have exacted my revenge. James cannot speak because every time he opens his mouth, bubbles fly out of it nonstop. A nifty little powder from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, I knew it would come in useful one of these days. I have to go now, he looks angry.

It's disgraceful that I still can't beat James in a fight. He's less than one year older than me. I will have to bulk up so that I can break that headlock he always uses on me. Stupid James. I hate him.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Vicky is Victoire. Nicky is Dominique. Awww, Vicky and Nicky.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.

**October 12****th****, 2017**

Quidditch season has started. The Gryffindor team is having its tryouts today, and both James and Freddie are trying out. Freddie is trying out for beater. James is trying out for both beater and chaser. Personally, I've seen him chase, and he's abysmal. He is going to make a fool of himself. I'm definitely planning to go watch. Rosie is itching with jealousy. She really misses Quidditch, and she's right to. She's possibly the best chaser in the family.

We are at the pitch now, and I'm sitting with Scorpius to my left and Rosie to my right. Scorpius is now officially the third best mate. When I asked Rosie, she said: "I'd been getting a bit sick of only you as a best mate, actually."

"Well, so had I," I said wittily.

When we found Scorpius after that, we grabbed one of his arms each and marched him to a corner of the common room, much to his bemusement.

"Scorpius," I hissed secretively. "Rosie and I discussed it, and we think…" I glanced at Rosie.

"We would like it if you joined us in eternal best-matehood," Rosie said, a bit dramatically, I thought. Scorpius's dimples began to show.

"I would be honoured," he said, looking both amused and delighted. "Is there a ceremony?"

"Of course," Rosie said briskly. "Repeat after me: I, Scorpius,"

"I, Scorpius," said Scorpius.

"Pledge to uphold the values of eternal best-matehood and be a loyal member of this sacred and marvelous group 'til death and perhaps beyond," said Rosie, coming up with the words on the spot, seeing as we haven't ever added new best mates to our twosome before. Scorpius repeated the words, and then Rosie grabbed one of his blond hairs, plucked it off his head and tossed it into the air like some demented witch doctor, chanting "Scorpius, new best mate, welcome," over and over again as it floated downwards, stopping only when it touched the ground. My family is insane.

Scorpius has turned towards me.

"D'you think you'll try out for Quidditch next year?" he says.

"Course," I say. "Will you?"

"Might," Scorpius says, turning back to watch a chaser hopeful. There are only two openings on the team this year, one for beater and one for chaser.

"What position?" Scorpius asks, sounding curious.

"Seeker," I say. When you play years of Quidditch with your family, you end up finding yourself a position, sticking to it, and getting quite good at it. I've known I'm a better seeker than anything else since I was seven or so. "What about you?"

"Dunno. I thought about trying out for Seeker too," says Scorpius. I hope he tries out for something else too. I don't want to have to beat him at next years Quidditch tryouts. He's a mate.

"You're _so_ arrogant," he says, smirking at me. He's read what I just wrote.

"Don't look into my journal," I tell him.

"You're writing everything we say, as we say it?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah," I tell him. He's snorting now.

Scorpius wouldn't let me write for a bit, but it's James's turn to try out for chaser, and I must chronicle it. One of the other chasers has thrown the Quaffle at him. He has caught it, but now he's off balance. He flies in the wrong direction for several seconds, before swerving and going towards the goal. If this were a real match, a Bludger'd have knocked him right off his broom by now. Nicky, who is the other Gryffindor chaser, and who is opposing James in the tryout, flies up and easily grabs the Quaffle out of James's hands. He looks furious and chases her, but she's already scored. I don't think I need to watch any more to know that James will not be getting next year's chaser position. I'm going to stop writing now until the beater tryouts start.

It has begun. Freddie is going first. He's fairly decent. His aim is good, and he seems to have a good control over the Bludgers. He makes a very good defensive Beater. James has gone on now. He's decent too. The thing about James is that he really keeps an eye on the game, so he can foil the opposing team's Seeker before they catch the Snitch, or a Chaser before they score. He makes a cracking offensive Beater. James and Freddie make a cracking team, too. I'm almost sure they'll be chosen.

They _have_ been chosen. James, Freddie and Nicky have come to the stands to greet us. James is being insufferable, and Freddie is no better. Nicky is eyeing them half exasperatedly, and half in amusement.

"Come on, you lot, let's go to dinner," she says, herding us all together in an affectionate, motherly way.

**October 20****th****, 2017**

James and Freddie have just done an astounding thing. They have invited me, Rosie and Scorpius to help them set up a prank for Halloween. I am flabbergasted. Freddie says he thinks we have potential as pranksters, judging by the ways we find to get them back for the dirty tricks they pull on us. Rosie is rubbing her hands together in glee. Large-scale mayhem is right up her street. The thing about Rosie is that she exudes an angelic aura. She looks a lot like her mum, her face is earnest and serious. She has perfected her "responsible and mature" look, on top of that, so people, adults especially, trust her without a second thought. But Rosie is downright evil. James is a prankster, but he's a bit of a bumbling idiot. Freddie has a bit more finesse, but he's got scruples, which is unfortunate. Rosie simply does not have a conscience. Come to think of it, she'd make a good Slytherin. So would I, according to the Sorting Hat, but I'd rather not talk about that.

Anyway, Rosie is the master of executing a plan. Scorpius's talents lie in spotting other peoples' weaknesses. While, me, I'm good at thinking of things to do to people to make them wish they'd never been born. I think I have a bit of a cruel streak, just like Rosie has a dishonest streak, and Scorpius has a critical streak. Maybe that Sorting Hat was right. But I'd really rather not talk about it. At least, not today.

**October 31****st****, 2017**

We have set everything up for our Halloween prank. Now we simply need to trigger it off and watch as chaos abounds. Rosie's going to do the triggering, of course. James didn't want to let her at first.

"I don't want to leave the important stuff to the titches," he said. But Freddie made him let us.

"I want to see what they can do," he told him. "We should know their capabilities so we can use them to their full capacity, don't you think?"

Hah. Use us. What do those two idiots think we are? Stupid? Brainless? The moment we have finished this prank, that will be the end of our collaboration, you mark my words. Even though I am still dead chuffed that we're allowed to be part of this prank at all. But it shall be the last!

Rosie has set off the WWW Batboxes. We set up about six, and each produces about twenty enchanted bats that last for at least two hours. There are bats ALL over the place. Professor McGonagall has fainted. Professor Flitwick and Professor Ogden are trying to Vanish the bats, but they're Wheezes, and stuff like Vanishing never works on their products. While the teachers are occupied, James and Freddie have set off all the Portable Graveyards. There are gravestones everywhere, and some have hands reaching out of them and flailing about. Uncle George is a genius.

Girls are shrieking, it is quite amusing. Scorpius is flashing me his tight-lipped grin, his dimples out rather prominently. He looks very jolly, I can't help but smile back. He is rolling his eyes because I'm writing in this journal near-constantly. I don't see what he has to complain about. I don't write in it every day. Only, the days I do write, I get a bit obsessive about it. But I know my writing will be invaluable to the children of the future, so I must do it for them.

**November 7****th****, 2017**

I am in History of Magic. I am perhaps one of the few who doesn't die of instant boredom when they enter this classroom. Firstly, because I like history. It's true. I even like the Goblin Rebellions. I suppose it's because Aunt Hermione's in the DMLE, and they're working on cooperation between magical beings, and that entails all sorts of awareness-raising between different cultures of magical being. So I've learnt a whole lot of stuff about Goblin culture and psychology. Aunt Hermione is Rosie's mum, so she ought to be knowledgeable on this sort of thing too, but she's fast asleep. But Rosie's impossible to understand anyway, so I won't question it.

Professor Binns is teaching us. He is a ghost; apparently he has been teaching here since 1902, and as a ghost since 1935. I wrote about him in a letter to Mum and Dad, and they sent me condolences with their replies. It was hilarious. I like Professor Binns, though. There's nothing like a teacher who thoroughly enjoys his subject. Even though he calls me 'Parfitt'.

Ghosts are made of ectoplasm, aren't they? I don't know, I'm just curious. Teddy told me once that the sun is going to implode in something something billion years, and the earth will be destroyed. And he said that one day, the Universe itself will collapse upon itself and cease to exist. All matter will be destroyed. But ghosts aren't really matter, are they? Ectoplasm isn't matter, I'm quite sure. So where will the ghosts be when the Universe self-destructs? I know that the Universe isn't all there is, because there is the plane on which the dead exist. I know, because Dad says he has talked to his dead parents. He told me when my pet kneazle died when I was nine. I know it's possible that he was just saying this to make me feel better, but I know my dad wouldn't say something as out there as "I have spoken with dead people" if it weren't the gospel truth. Dad doesn't encourage misleading people, even kids.

The thing is, a plane where the dead exist is an irrational concept. Only, so is magic itself, and we know magic exists. The plane of the dead is, essentially linked to magic by irrationality. And I think things that are irrational are probably the safest, because the rational Universe is capable of being destroyed by a perfectly rational series of phenomena. But the plane of the dead is safe. Nothing can touch it, because it defies all logic, and doesn't follow any rules.

I really should think a lot less. I have a headache. I think I'll annoy Scorpius for a little while so that my mind can regain a state of normalcy.

Scorpius does not appreciate my poking his textbook with my wand. It has started to do a jig. Professor Binns has not batted an eyelid so far.

**November 14****th****, 2017**

I am at Potions. The Professor is a short, dumpy lady called Professor Belby. She seems pleasant, even though she keeps rubbing her hands together in what I can only assume is glee at the joy of tossing bits and pieces into a cauldron. Somehow, I get the feeling I won't like Potions. Dad was always ridiculous at them, apparently, and even now all he can make from memory is a very plain, regulation Pepper Up.

"Y'know," Rose whispers to me. "The 'Severus' in your name comes from our parents' Potions Master."

I nod, because Dad has told me this on more than one occasion, and I have seen a portrait of his. Dad talked to it, but I was too afraid to. I must've been about seven. I don't think I would've liked Severus Snape much. He had this extremely frightening hooked nose, it was ghastly and haunted my nightmares for a few nights after that. And he was so _snide_ and just, so… unpleasant, I suppose. I know he did some good things, some exceptionally good things in the whole Voldemort war thing, but somehow, I feel as though if he hadn't done those things, nobody would've missed him much after his death. Dad would kill me if he read this; he's very big on respecting dead war heroes. And you can tell by my middle name exactly how much he respects Severus Snape.

I have an awful set of names though. Albus Severus Potter. Have you ever heard anything as pompous sounding? I bet I could make a lovely ministry official. Something that requires me to kiss a lot of peoples' behinds. Like the 'Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic' or something equally poncy. You know who else has a perfectly disgusting set of names? Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. It just screams 'junior toilet maintenance official whose parents got above themselves a bit!' I must show him this. He will hit me.

He has hit me. It was worth it.

**November 24****th****, 2017**

We are at lunch, and Scorpius has just announced that it is his birthday. Blithering idiot. If he had told us in time, we might've got him a present or two, maybe thrown a party in the common room. Rosie is improvising. She has turned our barely-used wizard hats upside down to resemble party hats, and strung our ties about on the chairs to resemble decoration. She is now sticking candles into the jelly that was served as dessert today. I don't know where she got the candles from, but Rosie is the resourceful sort.

Our family is embarrassing Scorpius terribly by singing "Happy Birthday" extremely loud and off-key. I bet he regrets ever befriending Rosie and me. He has gone pink, although his dimples are out.

We are in our dormitory now. We bid the rest of the family good night, and Rosie gave Scorpius her new quill because she felt awkward not having giving him any presents. Scorpius was chuffed, although he tried to tell her that she didn't have to give him anything. I suppose I should give him something too. He is changing into his nightclothes. I have already changed, and am rooting through my trunk. I hope I can find something that I can give him, before he clambers into bed and draws the hangings shut.

I found something. It was a book Auntie Hermione gave me on my birthday. I have barely touched it. It is called _Hogwarts: A History_. I hope he likes it. Then at least _someone_ will be reading it.

I have given it to Scorpius. I told him it was the only thing I could find in my trunk that was in a presentable condition. He seemed pleased. He tried to feed me all that rubbish about not needing to give him anything again, but I brushed it off. He is a best mate now, and must be treated like one.


	3. Chapter 3

**December 7****th****, 2017**

I am at Transfiguration, and I am _awful_ at it. My stupid matchstick won't even turn silver yet, and it's been weeks and weeks and _weeks_. It's nearly the Christmas holidays, and we're going to move on to teacups into wineglasses, and I still can't get my stupid bloody matchstick to turn silver, let along transform itself into a needle. I might as well have been born a Squib. I hate Transfiguration. I hate Hogwarts. I hate _magic_.

Rosie is bloody perfect at it, and I hope she knows I loathe her. Her matchstick turned into the most perfect needle about two weeks ago, and she's been at it with about _five_ other matchsticks, and she won't even let me pass one of them off as mine. I hate her. She tried to help me during our last class, but what with all the suppressed scorn, I decided I'd rather not have any help at _all_ than have her hovering around looking partly smug and partly disdainful of me. She is such a horrible person. It's not my fault I am almost as bad as a Squib.

Scorpius has managed it too. He did it last week. He seems sorry for me, but he hasn't begun to show off about it yet, or to crow over me, and I am thankful for that. He's not trying to play good Samaritan and "teach" me either, and I am _very_ grateful for that, because I hate feeling like some sort of stupid laggard who can't understand simple concepts that all his classmates can.

I have looked around the class, and it turns out there are two others who haven't got their matchsticks to react in the slightest to their spells. And our class is with the Hufflepuffs, so it's not a very good sign for me. Both the others are in Hufflepuff. They are Penelope Macmillan and Calvin Ritter.

It is evening now, and I am wondering what I should do about this Transfiguration nonsense. I don't think I can take it anymore. I'm wondering if I should ask James for help, but on second thought, James would probably just find it useful fodder for future mocking. Maybe I'll ask Nicky.

Nicky has agreed to give me a bit of tutoring. I feel as though I should be fair and ask Penelope and Calvin if they want some help at it as well. I'll ask them if I see them at dinner.

It is dinner. I asked Penelope and Calvin, and they were quite nice about it, and seemed grateful. I'm glad I've got this sorted, because I really can't be a failure at anything here at Hogwarts. My dad is Harry Potter, and though I am always refused the entire story, you know, about the war and all, I have picked up a few facts. Other wizarding children probably know more than I do about my dad, but I know that I have a lot to live up to, and I'm not going to be some sorry little loser who lets his parents down.

**December 12****th****, 2017**

I am at Potions. Surprisingly, I am brilliant at it. I'm not even joking. I was really nervous at first, which contributed to my mucking my first two potions up, but now there's absolutely no competition. We've had potions a few times, and so far we've brewed some very simple little concoctions, but no one but me has got every single one of them perfectly right. Lots of people end up with evil-smelling slushy stuff at the bottom of their cauldrons at the end of some of the practical lessons. That has not happened to me even once. I actually wonder how so many people go wrong with this stuff. It's just following a load of instructions in a book. And they're not even silly instructions. They make perfect sense.

Take the Cooling Potion, for instance. It was probably the fourth or fifth one we did, and it took all of thirty minutes to make. In fact, if you took more than thirty minutes, you probably got it wrong. And a whole lot of people forgot that they had to put in a one sevenths measure of asphodel powder. Which is stupid, because you _need_ the asphodel to react with the crushed ginger to really get the cooling reaction to work on the body. Otherwise it's just a cold liquid. And then there's the dunderheads who don't know what a one sevenths is. When we have all these big fat scales in our kits. Honestly. How could someone _not_ be good at potions? It amazes me. And my dad is supposed to be a great wizard, but all he can make is a Pepper Up? How?

Professor Belby loves me. You can tell. I'm the star of her class, and that is saying something, considering this class is chock full of Ravenclaws. The only person even close to as good as me is Sophie Chase, and she mucked up the Clear-Air potion so badly that I don't even care anymore. They're called _Doxy eggs,_ Sophie. Toss them in there sometimes!

**December 18****th****, 2017**

Mum and Dad have written, which is nothing new. But this time they've written about the Christmas Holidays, which I'd forgotten about. I'm pretty excited because, well, I haven't been home since we got to Hogwarts. And Christmas with my family is insane and ridiculous and very, very entertaining. And because I miss my parents. Letters are not nearly enough. I want to tell Dad that his idea about asking the Sorting Hat to put you in the house you want worked. I don't want to tell anybody else ever that I was nearly put in Slytherin, but I can tell Dad, because he deserves to know, seeing as how he told me the trick. And also because I want to know what house he nearly got put in, because clearly he _asked_ to be put in Gryffindor, which is why he even knows this trick at all. And Dad won't judge me. If there's one thing I know, at all, in this world, it is that my dad will not judge me for anything I do or any of the choices I make. Well, within reason. As long as I'm not buggering someone else's life up, Dad won't mind what I do.

They've written to me a lot this past term. Dad says I got my potions talent from my Grandmum Lily, who was his mum. Dad never met his Mum. I mean, he did, but he doesn't remember her. It must be very strange not to know your own parents. Mum, _my_ mum, that is, has been around all my life, and I can't picture her not being there. She's always sort of been around, mostly with Dad. Sometimes I see them as one entity, but really, though I love Mum a lot and everything, I'm closer to Dad. I could tell him anything, stuff I haven't even told Rosie. Stuff that Mum just wouldn't understand.

Mum's just very _Mum_, she drinks tea all the time, and is always yelling at some poor sod's head in the Floo, and likes to hug all three of her kids at the same time, and sit around like that, with us in her arms, Lily probably on her lap. She's a sort of blazing personality, she's always active and witty and all over the place. Dad's a lot more sedate. He's the sort of person who likes to _live_, and take deep breaths while he does it. He doesn't get angry a lot, but I've seen him angry once or twice, and it doesn't bear thinking about. When Dad gets angry, he's not Dad anymore, he's a frightening, furious war veteran and I can believe he struck Voldemort dead. But he's never been angry like that at me or James, and certainly never at Lily.

Lily gets all this attention, because she's the baby, and a girl to boot. But I don't mind, because she's lovely. She's not like other people's sisters. She doesn't run around trying to ingratiate herself with me and James. She's got a very elaborate fantasy life, and can sit around playing alone all day long. She does throw the occasional tantrum, like she did when James and I were leaving for Hogwarts, but ordinarily she's quite decently behaved. That was a bit of a turmoil-filled day. James had upset me like anything, and I was just so nervous and confused. If Dad hadn't told me his Sorting Hat trick, I might've burst into tears, which would have been embarrassing. Rosie would've laughed at me, and James would never've let me live it down.

James is _such_ an idiot. Sometimes I can barely believe he's my brother. Although we're close in a few ways (though you wouldn't know it), those ways are not part of our daily life. They're very familial. For example, if anyone insulted our parents or something like that, we'd gang up so fast they wouldn't be able to say 'Potter' before they were hexed. But that sort of situation is hard to come by when you're a Potter. People love us, _just_ because we were lucky enough to've been born Potters. James and I are just a bit longer than a year apart in age (he turns thirteen next month. I turn twelve in April), and have known each other since we can remember. James remembers Lily being born, although all I have is a few very vague memories of Saint Mungo's and a wrinkly little person in Dad's arms. I am forced to assume that wrinkly, odd-looking baby was Lily. But James and I grew up at almost the same time, and have fought over nearly everything, all our lives. And James is bolder than I am, so he has that on me, but I have cartloads of cunning, and I always use it to gain an advantage over him. That's probably why he was so fixated on the idea that I might be in Slytherin. I know Mum and Dad thought he was joking, but I can tell better when James is making a joke out of something he thinks is serious, and just making a joke for the fun of it.

Things have been a constant competition between me and James for a very long time. However, unlike ordinary competitions, we don't just strive to be better than one another, we strive to do it in our own separate ways. Sometimes it's almost too much to be healthy. For example, I know that James is excelling in Transfiguration. Which is why I _have_ to be at least as good as him, if not better. I'm doing terrific at Potions, though, which is good because James is useless at it. We don't do this to prove anything to anyone, not even Mum and Dad. It's just this need we've got to outdo each other. _Just_ so we can rub each others' faces in it, I suppose. It's quite silly, really. But it's there. The thing is, James uses Dad as a bench mark. Since Dad wasn't too good at potions, he doesn't take it very seriously, and the fact that I'm good at it doesn't nark him much. But I think that to be even better than Dad at something is a heck of an achievement. James wants to be exactly like Dad when he grows up. I just want to be someone Dad would respect.

**December 20****th****, 2017**

Moronic Scorpius won't stop quoting Hogwarts: A History. I wish I'd given him chocolate frogs or something instead. In fact, the way he's been hounding me with Hogwarts facts lately, I feel irritated enough to wonder if a simple card would have sufficed. We are on the train right now, going back to King's Cross. Our parents will pick us up at Platform nine and three quarters. It has occurred to me that Scorpius's dad will be there as well. I know that my dad and Scorpius's weren't exactly the best of friends at Hogwarts, so this will be interesting. I hope Uncle Ron loses his temper or something, and punches are thrown. If they ignore each other, or do something else as boring, I will be _very_ disappointed.

Scorpius is informing me and Rosie that the walls of Hogwarts are enchanted to repel broomsticks from either side. That's unfortunate; I'd so wanted to roam the Scottish countryside on my Thunderbolt and pick a few daisies! NOT.

"Find this out," I say to Scorpius, finally thinking of something I actually am curious about. "Why is it so easy to just simply _walk_ into the depths of the Forbidden Forest? And how come no one sneaks into the grounds from there?"

Scorpius ruffles the pages of the book feverishly, and I pat myself on the back for having thought of that.

"I think it's part of the grounds," Rosie says, chewing on a piece of cauldron cake. "I think there are protective enchantments on its outer perimeter."

"But there's wild beasts and stuff in there!" I argue, matter-of-factly. "You can't just expose a load of students to this huge forest filled up to the teeth with Acromantulae and stuff, can you? I mean, why have a forest on the grounds at all, and then _forbid_ it?"

"Know what," Rosie says, chewing madly away. "We ought explore it a bit. To see what sort of, y'know, _secrets_ it's got hidden."

"Brilliant!" says Scorpius, looking up from that awful book for a change. "I bet we'll find all sorts of historical stuff in there!" Trust Scorpius Malfoy to be interested in historical stuff when there's Acromantulae and Centaurs and stuff in that forest. We have agreed to go exploring next term. I think we are nearly at London now.

We are back home. It was brilliant at King's Cross. Scorpius, Rosie and I walked out of the train one after the other, and our parents spotted us at the same time. As they made their way over to us, they ran into each other. Then there was a moment of gaping as they looked at each other and over at us, and realized exactly who their sons were walking off the train with. Uncle Ron was there too, and he seemed just as flabbergasted.

So of course, Scorpius and I grinned at each other and hailed our dads as though we didn't know how much they detested each other.

"Oi, Dad!" I said, waving cheerfully.

"Hello, Father," Scorpius called out, equally joyous.

And we introduced each other to our Dads. Whose mouths were hanging open. It was hilarious. But even better was Uncle Ron, who seemed as though he wanted to drag Rosie away from there in case she caught something. Rosie was brilliant, though.

"Dad, this is Scorpius, our other best mate," she said in her best good-girl voice. "And I think you know his dad, Mr. Malfoy?" she continued, gesturing. It was absolutely hysterical. Uncle Ron looked downright apoplectic, and Dad just seemed like his eyes might fall out, and Mr. Malfoy looked like he'd smelt something particularly foul. Scorpius and I grinned at each other before we went our separate ways.

Our house is the same as it's always been. James is bouncing about like an idiot. Lily was well chuffed to see us, and has introduced us to her two new pets, Blubber the Kneazle and Alison the toad. Mum has hounded me about my first term at Hogwarts, and is amused that Scorpius is our new best mate. She keeps glancing at Dad when I talk about him, and smirking. Dad hasn't said a word about it yet though. We are getting together with Rosie's family tomorrow at Diagon Alley, as an outing for our first day back for the holidays. We might go down to the Burrow after, to meet Grandmum and Grandad. It's all fun and free of teachers and wintery and brilliant. Wish Scorpius were around too, then it would've been perfect. Well, I suppose three weeks isn't too long to wait.

**December 26****th****, 2017**

It's six thirty in the morning, and I haven't the foggiest idea why I'm awake. I just sort of rolled awake about five minutes ago, and I can't go back to sleep, so I thought I'd chronicle how Christmas went, so that future generations can see what a typical Potter/Weasley/Lupin Christmas is like, with the occasional Longbottom or Lovegood thrown in. Yesterday, it was only the Lovegoods. I love them, though, they're perfectly marvelous. Hugo's an absolute disciple of Aunt Luna's. I like their way of thinking a lot too, though.

We spent Christmas eve at home, just Mum, Dad, Teddy, James, me and Lily. It was lovely, lovely, lovely. Dad cooked, as usual, and Mum told us stories about some of the more stupid people at her office, and we hooted with laughter. Even James and I were getting along. Teddy laughed at our stories and told a few of his own, and then went into his post-Hogwarts depression, which is a side of him we've been dealing with ever since he got back for the last time this summer. It's grotesque.

Anyway. We told them the story of the Hallowe'en prank, and they smiled broadly. Our parents are all right with us pranking and stuff's long as we don't hurt anyone, and aren't really mean or anything. I suppose it comes from having such a ruined childhood, what with Voldemort and all.

Lily was obscenely jealous and wouldn't stop scowling until Mum told her to tell us her stories about primary school. She goes to this Muggle school in the next town, and there's a boy in it that Dad says reminds him of Cousin Dudley when they were in primary. We're not super-close to Cousin Dudley and his family, but one of his daughters is in Hogwarts with us, so we're not estranged or anything. Gertie's actually pretty nice, if ugly as sin.

Anyway, this boy's name is Gus, but we privately call him Fat Gus, and he's a bit of a standing joke. Whenever there's a lull in the conversation, we look to Lily for a few Fat Gus stories. Once the attention was on her last night, she forgot to be jealous of all the fun James and I had at Hogwarts.

Yesterday, we Portkeyed down to the Burrow at about noon. Grandmum was ecstatic to see us, and tucked James and me into the rolls of fat at her sides, telling us how much she missed us while we were at Hogwarts. Grandad led us down to his shed and showed us his newest contraption with a proud look on his face, like he'd just given birth to it or something. Grandad is funny.

All our cousins congregated at the Burrow in the evening as usual. Vicky, Nicky, Louis, Roxie and Freddie were boring, because I'd just seen them at school. Freddie and James automatically gravitated towards each other as they've done since time immemorial, and I gravitated towards Rosie, who showed me an Owl she'd got from Scorpius. I was a bit miffed that Scorpius wrote to her and not me, I mean she might be our best friend, but blokes ought to stick together, or something. I dunno. I just felt a bit left out. I hadn't realized Rosie and Scorpius were _that_ friendly without me. But it turned out to be very short, and just a tiny anecdote his father'd told him about Rosie's dad. He thought it was hilarious, so he'd jotted it down quickly and Owled it over. Rosie thought it was funny too, and we immediately began to make plans to use the information to annoy Uncle Ron if he ever got in our way. I hope Scorpius sends a story or two about my parents as well.

Us kids hung about for a while, and played in the snow, and watched television. We talked to Lorcan and Lysander, the Lovegood twins, who're a year younger than Lily, and totally brilliant. They say the absolute _randomest_ things, and it's always funny.

Louis and Nicky got into a bit of a sibling fight, and Aunt Fleur ended up having to wrench them apart, which was fun to watch because Aunt Fleur gets all French-ey and severe when she's angry.

Vicky and Teddy spent most of the evening languishing in each others' arms, which was equal parts amusing and disgusting. James acted patently immature and teased them, as did Freddie. But Freddie is funny, and James just looks like an arse.

Uncle Percy's daughter, Lucy, and Uncle George's youngest, Max, were by far the youngest there, at five and seven. ALL the adults absolutely fawned over them, which was irritating. I'm lucky Rosie's not the soppy type of girl, and has no time for 'cute' stuff.

Roxie knocked over a pudding at some point and it was absolute chaos for a while, and then Hugo managed to upend a chair, I don't know how – but that's really all in a day's work at a Weasley Family Get-together.

And then we opened presents, which was epic. I got lots of chocolate, several Wheezes, a few books, and of course the usual jumper in black and green. Dad always gets a pure green one, and James gets a yellow one, which goes with his hazel eyes and idiotic brown hair. Lily gets a purple one, and Mum gets a blue one. Grandmum must have a sense of humor though, because Uncle Ron ALWAYS gets a maroon one, and looks _miserable_ about it. It's really funny. Rosie gets a navy one, usually, and Aunt Hermione gets a peach coloured one. And Hugo gets a pink one, which would be funny if he minded, like Uncle Ron does, but Hugo's just so stoic. He doesn't care at all.

And then we ate dinner. Which was bloody brilliant, as usual. And that's how Christmas went this year. I wonder what Scorpius does during Christmas, at that large mansion of his. I should ask Teddy. He was happy to hear that Scorpius was our best mate. He said he thought that Scorpius might have had a bit of a lonely childhood, in that massive draughty mansion with his creepy Death Eater family. Although the stories I've heard from Scorpius aren't that bad. I think Mr. Malfoy has probably changed a lot over time. Maybe his mum had something to do with it. My parents knew her sister, but not well. And they didn't know his mum at all. But I don't think she was a Death Eater. Maybe I'll ask Scorpius himself


	4. Chapter 4

**January 1****st****, 2018**

So it is officially the New Year. We ushered it in at home, as is tradition. One big Weasley get-together in the holiday season is enough, thanks. New Year's is reserved for James, Lily, Mum, Dad, Teddy, Gran Andie and me. We were worried that Gran Andie might not be able to make it this year – she already missed Christmas, because she's been ill a lot lately – but she said she was up to it, and so it was all of us again. It was loads of fun. Scorpius sent a card. Gran Andie said she was glad that Rosie and I are friends with him.

Teddy'd already told me he approved, the day we got back from Hogwarts. He said he'd always thought Scorpius seemed like a good kid, and could do with more friends. I told him we'd promoted him to third best mate, and described Rosie's ritual. Teddy threw his head back and laughed loudly for ages. So I told him that Scorpius has become a _Hogwarts: A History_ nerd like Aunt Hermione, and did a little impression, which made him laugh harder.

Then James bounded along and told Teddy about how I had three nostrils, and Teddy was nearly on the floor with mirth. Then I started telling him how Rosie, Scorpius and I got back at James, at which point James tried to get me in a headlock. During this, Lily ambled over and started extolling the virtues of girls as opposed to boys, with examples handpicked from her second form class. Eventually Dad rescued Teddy, engaging him in a conversation about boring Ministry politics. But I digress.

So, we've ushered the New Year in. And I have brilliant news. Dad took me aside today and gave me a piece of blank parchment. I was confused at first.

"What's this, Dad?" I asked, looking at it in bemusement.

"Watch, learn, and remember," Dad said, giving me a gleeful little smile. He tapped the parchment with his wand and said "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." I sniggered, but then the parchment became covered with lines, and as I looked closer, I realized that it was a map of Hogwarts. But not just that, it had _people_ marked on it, and they were _moving_!

"Dad!" I said, and Dad grinned at me.

"This is one of two heirlooms passed down from Grandad James," he told me. "The other is an Invisibility Cloak."

"_What_?" I said, flabbergasted.

"James has that," Dad said, completely ruining my excitement. "He had both of them during his first year, and I told him to choose one and give you the other when you got to Hogwarts, but I found out that he didn't do as he was told – something I should have expected –" Dad rubbed his temple for a moment, looking exasperated. "So I made him choose when you came back. And he chose the Cloak, so you get the Map."

"Why does he get to choose?" I asked indignantly, but Dad simply said: "He's older." Ugh. Bested by James again, and why? Because he happened to be born fifteen months before I did. Life isn't _fair_. Although I suppose the Map's not much worse than the Cloak – almost at par, I'd say. Actually, it might even be better. It's like a superpower, knowing where everyone is at a given moment. You can almost predict the future – if student X is in the Owlery, and I know that he has detention, then Professor Y is probably up on the Astronomy tower looking for him. Because that's where all professors check first. What can you do with a poxy Invisibility Cloak? It's just glorified hide and seek, isn't it. James is such an idiot. Trust him to choose the flashier thing.

**January 11****th****, 2018**

We're back at Hogwarts. I thought I'd done all my holiday homework, but on the train, Rosie and Scorpius started discussing something we supposedly have to turn in for Herbology. I am so very dead. So now I'm probably going to stay up half the night finishing the stupid essay.

I've almost finished the essay. Bert Creevey is dead good at Herbology, and he's helping me. I love my house.

Did you know that Devil's Snare pods are useful for brewing Forgetfulness potions? Apparently the Devil's Snare plant has an aroma that mucks about with your brain, so that you don't realize it's wrapping its tendrils you until it's too late. And the pods have concentrated amounts of the substance that creates the aroma. This is fascinating stuff.

In other news, it was James's birthday yesterday, and he got a new broom since he is now Beater for Gryffindor. Not that he's done much – Gryffindor have only played one match so far, and it was against Hufflepuff. And it lasted about thirty minutes. Nobody scored at all, and then Harry Carmichael, the Gryffindor Seeker caught the snitch and we won. Anyway, James is now the proud owner of the Lightning Bolt, but I've read the reviews in _Seeker_ magazine, and apparently it's not an improvement on the Thunderbolt at all (the broom James already had. Which I am going to get, now. Except I can't bring it to school until September. But it's mine). It's just a bit flashier and pretends to have better precision balance and a better braking charm on it. But it's nearly the same thing. I suppose that doesn't matter to James. He likes flashy things. Mum agrees with him, because she likes a bit of flair for her stuff as well. I expect Dad caved to the pressure.

James tried to lord it over me, because apparently, now that he's thirteen, he's two years older than me, because I'm still eleven.

"In what universe is fifteen months the same as two years?" I asked him.

"In the one in which I'm two years older than you," he replied. He is such a Neanderthal.

**January 20****th****, 2018**

Gryffindor had a match against Slytherin today, but we lost. However, we only lost by ten points, because their seeker outdid Harry Carmichael. So we're still in the running, in third place. Hufflepuff is out, they lost to Ravenclaw a week ago. We still have to play Ravenclaw, and we'll only get the cup if Slytherin lose to Ravenclaw by at least twenty points, and then we beat Ravenclaw by seventy. Seventy!

James and Freddie were really rather good, though I'd never tell them that. Our keeper isn't very skilled, so the main reason Slytherin didn't score too many goals was because James kept heading them off. Their Beaters barely got near the Bludgers, and when they did hit one, Freddie'd be there in a flash to bat it over to James, who would proceed to send it smash into the Chaser in possession. They really do make a brilliant team.

Carmichael's a bit of an unreliable player. Some days he flies like the wind, but on others he's just staring into space like a dolt. Also, he seems like the type who will catch the snitch regardless of how far ahead or behind his team is. I don't think he'd be much good at feinting and stuff, and heading the other Seeker off. So if we're behind and the snitch is spotted, it's either catch it or let the other Seeker catch it. Diversionary tactics don't look like his strong point, in my opinion. He graduates this June, though, so his place on the team will be open next year. Scorpius and I are going to try out for it. I wonder if our dads will let us practice together over summer.

Rosie is going to try out too, as chaser. She's so good, it's ridiculous. I can't wait for next year.

**February 14****th****, 2018**

I have received a valentine, and no, it's not from Rosie (who hasn't given me a valentine since we were six, and in any case, she always drew herself pretty, and made me look like a gormless fool, and then laughed at me when I opened the cards).

It's heart-shaped and pale pink. The inside says:

_Albus, tall, dark and handsome,_

_You have held my heart for ransom._

_Noble, just, brave and true,_

_Accept this token from someone who loves you._

Scorpius is hysterical with laughter, and Rosie is snickering as well. Oh no, James is looking this way. I must hide it.

All right, I put it in my backpack, but Rosie, who is a traitorous wretch and will _pay_, fished it out behind my back and handed it to James, who read it to everyone on the Gryffindor table. _Fourth years_ were laughing at me. Why must my life be ridden with tragedy and betrayal?

**February 15****th****, 2018**

I have got back at James and Rosie. I made a colour change potion (we haven't learnt this in class, it's actually second-year level and I am extraordinarily proud of myself for having been able to brew it without any help), and turned her purple, with yellow hair. She looks like a cartoon character. It was epic.

With James, I decided to be a bit crueler, because he deserves it. I replaced all his quills with the Ink-Vanishing variety from WWW. All his homework went blank and now he has detention with four different professors. That'll teach him.

**February 18****th****, 2018**

Gryffindor lost the match against Ravenclaw. We didn't just not win by the requisite amount of points, we outright lost. By thirty points. So we came in third for the cup. It's just embarrassing. And it's all Carmichael's fault. Well, the chasers weren't exactly in top form either, but if he'd caught the snitch, we'd've been ahead by ninety, which would have ensured that we came in second, at least (Slytherin beat Ravenclaw by about a hundred, so they won the cup).

But I don't know what he thought he was doing. The snitch whizzed past him and the crowd shouted, and he just simply didn't notice. I wonder if he's all right in the head. Rosie says he probably couldn't cope, what with the NEWTs looming over his head. But I don't think that's a good enough excuse. Patty Johns is Captain, and _she's_ a seventh year. She seems to be doing all right, why can't he?

**February 20****th****, 2018**

Hah. Today in Herbology, Alex Finnegan was bored, and tried to get his mate, Calvin Ritter to join him in winding me up. What he didn't know is that Calvin and I, along with Penny Macmillan, have been studying Transfiguration together under Nicky, and are mates now. Calvin looked uncomfortable, and I felt a bit sorry for him, because I understand that your mates' enemies are supposed to be your enemies. Then again, I'd be mates with Alex too, if he wasn't being such a baby about not being Sorted into his dad's house. So, really, it's all Alex's fault.

Eventually, Calvin looked at me apologetically while Alex sent some extremely unimaginative taunts my way. I nodded to let him know it was all right.

James attacked me with snowballs when Rosie, Scorpius and I were coming out of the greenhouses. He got all my stuff wet, including my books and things. I think another letter to Mum is in order.

**February 21****st****, 2018**

James has started referring to me as "It."

"Oh, It's arrived," he said scathingly to Freddie, looking at me pointedly as I walked into breakfast this morning. Apparently, Mum sent him a chiding letter which he received last night.

"What're you on about," I grunted at him, because I wasn't fully awake yet.

"It's speaking!" James said in mock horror. Freddie sniggered.

"Boil your head," I requested.

"It's making odd noises, Freddie," said James, feigning fright. I rolled my eyes at him extravagantly. Whatever. If it keeps him off my back, he can call me "It" for all I care.

I have gotten loads better at Transfiguration. Today, I turned my teacup into a wineglass on only my fourth try. I was the third person in class to get it right, after Rosie and Scorpius, of course. Professor Ogden actually nodded at me and said "You've made a lot of improvement, Mr. Potter." Then he awarded the three of us ten points each for Gryffindor. Everyone who manages a transfiguration the first day we try it gets ten points. Only one other person, Mandy Bones, got it after me.

**March 10****th****, 2018**

Roxanne, Rosie, Scorpius and I had a mini-adventure! After weeks of hemming and hawing, we finally plucked up the courage to sneak into the Forbidden Forest. The biggest problem was that the gamekeeper's hut is bang in way, and probably for a reason too. I'm sure we're not the first students who decided that prancing off into the Forbidden Forest would be a good idea.

Anyway, eventually Rosie suggested that we borrow the Invisibility Cloak off James. But I knew he'd never lend it to me since we aren't speaking. And he knows not to lend it to Rosie or Scorpius either, because they're my best mates. Eventually, Rosie came up with a plan – we decided to make Freddie sneak it out of his trunk for us. But we knew Freddie wouldn't do it because he is James's best mate, so Rosie enlisted Roxie to help us blackmail Freddie into submission. Roxie is Freddie's sister, so she has a lot of material to gouge him with.

Eventually, Roxie threatened to tell Uncle George and Auntie Angelina about Freddie's month's detention with Professor Ogden because he was caught passing off other people's transfigured objects as his own. Freddie relented in the blink of an eye, and we had the Cloak in about half an hour. The only downside was that Roxie insisted on coming with us. I call it a downside because, firstly, this was supposed to be a just-best-mates-thing. Secondly, Roxie's the sort of person who jumps and squeals very, very loudly if an insect brushes past her. I was terrified she'd give us away when we were sneaking down to the Forest.

Thankfully, she managed to restrain herself. The four of us wouldn't fit under the Cloak all at once, so Rosie and I went first, out of the Great Hall and past the lake and the Gamekeeper's Hut, and to the edge of the Forest. I deposited her behind a big tree, so that she couldn't be seen from the hut or the castle, and then I went back with the Cloak for Roxie and Scorpius.

Back when Mum and Dad were at school, they sneaked into the Forest with alarming regularity, judging by some of the stories we hear at home when the grown-ups have been drinking too much Firewhiskey. But when my parents were kids, Hagrid was the gamekeeper, and he was friends with Dad, so he let them get away with a lot of things. But Hagrid's retired long since, and trades in magical animals now. The new gamekeeper is a man called Silas Fragg, who has a limp and a large moustache. I haven't spoken to him, so I don't know what sort of person he is, but he looks rather frightening, so we steered clear of his hut as we shuffled into the Forest.

When we reached where I'd left Rosie, we found her petting a greeny-silvery lizard thing, who appeared to be enjoying the attention.

"It's a Moke," she said in a pleased voice as we approached. The Moke shrank in size a bit as we approached, but Rosie stroked it soothingly and said "Shhhh, it's okay, it's okay. They're friends." The Moke stopped shrinking, and Scorpius and I bent down to run our fingers softly over its scaly head. It basked in all the attention. Roxie kept a respectful distance away from it, though.

"I'm going to name him Eldred," Rosie announced. We started to walk into the Forest, wands out, Eldred the Moke perched on Rosie's forearm.

Of course, we don't really know much defensive spellwork as of yet, so we decided to skirt the perimeter of the Forest instead of plunging headfirst into it. Scorpius said he knew a few spells, so we'd be safe, but on the whole we decided it might be wiser not to look for trouble during our very first expedition. Also, and neither Rosie nor I said anything about this, but both of us were thinking that more intensive exploration had best be left for a time when Roxie _wasn't_ tagging along with us.

Nothing terribly exciting happened, but we _think_ we spotted a Unicorn, though it was gone in a flash before we could really be sure. And at one point we heard some ominous rattles and clicks from inside the Forest. Remembering the stories about Acromantulae, we backtracked in a hurry, and made our way back towards the castle. We got back in at around one in the night. Tomorrow's Saturday though, so it doesn't matter. Scorpius collected some bark and wild toadstools, he says they might come in handy for a potion or two sometime. He likes to be prepared.

Rosie brought Eldred back, and plans to keep him. She doesn't know yet where she'll put him, but we're going to research Moke-care in the library tomorrow.

Anyway. I'm dead tired, I think it's time for bed. Goodnight!

**April 15****th****, 2018**

It's my birthday: I have officially turned twelve. Vicky's doing another little party in the common room. I wish she wouldn't. It's so silly to have a party when you're twelve.

Mum and Dad gave me an owl! It's a petite, smoky-grey horned owl, he flew up to me at breakfast with a card from my parents. Then he perched on the edge of my bowl of cornflakes and looked at me seriously. I love him. He looks very intelligent. I have named him Augustus, after Augustus the Angry, my favourite goblin rebel. Scorpius loves him too. He kept lightly stroking the feathers on his head. Augustus didn't bat an eyelid. I'm so happy I finally have my own owl. Now I won't have to share Lobster with James. What kind of idiot names their owl Lobster? My brother, that's who.

Something funny has happened. Ashleigh McConaughey came up to me at lunch and wished me a Happy Birthday. Then she gave me a pale pink handmade card, which had "_Have a lovely Birthday, Al!_" written inside it. Rosie pointed out that both the writing and the paper were the same as the mysterious valentine I'd got. Ashleigh went red and rushed off. Now Scorpius and Rosie are teasing me about it.

Ashleigh McConaughey fancies me. I don't know what to think about it. Girls who aren't Rose are a bit of a mystery to me. I mean, some of them do have serious mate potential, but _fancying_ one? I don't know if I'm up to it. Girls get all blushy and giggly when fancying comes into the picture. It's a bit off-putting, to be honest. And with a mate, I can talk about things like the pranks James and I play on each other, or about Quidditch and stuff – but with a girl you fancy, what do you even talk about? Aside from paying one another compliments? It's all a bit dodgy, if you ask me. I don't think I want anything to do with this whole boyfriend-girlfriend business yet. Maybe when I'm older. Like Teddy.

So far my party is a success. All our friends from the first and second years are here, plus a few third years, and any members of the family from the years above that. The food is lovely, and James has procured some Butterbeer again – now that I have the Map, I know how he does it. I haven't plucked up the courage to sneak down to Hogsmeade yet, though. Although Rosie, Scorpius and I have explored the more obscure parts of the castle. We met a nutter in a portrait the other day. Claimed to be a knight. Sir Cad-something.

James still isn't speaking to me though. After he brought the Butterbeer, he passed it around to everyone, and asked Rosie "Did It get a bottle?" Since I _had_ been passed one, she nodded. She used to find the whole "It" thing very funny a while ago, but I suppose the novelty's worn off. James always keeps jokes alive past their prime. No subtlety at all.

My presents are as follows:

Rosie – A box of Chocolate Frogs and a book about the ten greatest potioneers of all time.

Scorpius – A Falmouth Falcon's hat (it's our favourite team) and a box that only I can open.

Lily – She sent me a box of Sugar Quills.

Teddy – A globe that let's you do a little virtual tour of whatever place you point your wand at.

Vicky, Nicky and Louis – A book called _Spirits, Souls and the Afterlife: What Do We Know?_

Freddie and James – A Skiving Snackbox, A portable desert and some Cockroach Cluster.

Roxie – A travelling Gobstones set.

Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione – A Do-It-Yourself book of healing potions, and a potions kit to go with it. Aunt Hermione is ecstatic that I'm good at potions.

Gran and Grandpa Weasley – A handknitted scarf, a box of fudge, and a Muggle torch that I'm never going to use now that I know _lumos_.

Gran Andie – A book about the lives of the ten most famous Quidditch players.

Everyone else – Assorted sweets and books.

Overall, a decent haul. Happy Birthday to me!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry guise. I'm a bad time person. But I've decided to own my inability to be regular and reliable. I've gotten some really nice reviews for this fic and i want to continue it, but I'm a terrible writer and I'm in the mood like once a month, when I manage to crank out something like two paragraphs. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate all the amazingly kind words you've said to me. **

**Disclaimer: No. No, I do not own Harry Potter. **

**April 30****th****, 2018**

Hogwarts is a weird place. Yesterday, I was exploring the castle with my map, and I found this corridor lined with portraits on the seventh floor. So I walked down it, intending to talk to them and find out stuff about Hogwarts, because no one talks to portraits, and they're super interesting. I'd rather have portraits teach me History of Magic than old Binns. Although what if someone drew a portrait of Binns? He'd still be dull as ditchwater! Anyway, I went up to a knight in one of the portraits and greeted him.

"Hello!" I said, waving.

"Avast, ye!" the knight said to me. "What doth thou need in these parts, lad?"

"Er," I said, nonplussed. He was brandishing a sword at me! Crazy old painting. "I'm just looking around," I told him. "Who are you?"

"What use is that knowledge to thee?" the knight asked suspiciously. "Wilt thou be alerting thine armies? Art thou a false knight, sent from my enemies?"

"You have enemies?" I asked him, but he shook his head at me.

"Begone, scoundrel!" he advised. "I do not trust thine eyes. 'Tis wise never to trust one whose eyes are made of emerald – 'tis folly, sir!"

I rolled my eyes and walked away. Barmy old knight.

I told Rosie and Scorpius about the corridor today and they insist on visiting it soon. I hope I meet some more interesting paintings this time!

I am in Charms now, and we're learning how to make a pencil dance. Rosie and Mandy Bones have already finished theirs. Their pencils are actually doing an elaborate two-step with each other. Rosie looks smug. She and Mandy are hissing girly stuff into each other's ears. Ashleigh is partnered with our Molly, and they seem to be taking to each other somewhat. Ashleigh'd love Roxie, I bet. They're a lot similar, I bet Ashleigh's scared of insects too. I can't believe she fancies me. That's so weird. Although a bit flattering. I wonder if I'll want a girlfriend when I'm older. I can't fathom having one right now. It looks like a lot of work. Teddy is at Vicky's beck and call. It's all a bit disgusting, to be honest. I thought he was a lot cooler before he became Vicky's boyfriend. _Vicky!_ What could he possibly see in Vicky? She's so _boring_. Even Nicky's more fun than Vicky, even if she's a bit overbearing. At least _she_ plays Quidditch. Vicky is just distant. She keeps talking about kitchen fittings and table napkins and stuff. And she shops all the time. She was with us when we went to Diagon Alley this summer, to get our things. I swear she simply wouldn't leave Madam Malkin's. And she writes _poetry_. Just so… _boring_.

Scorpius is trying to read over my shoulder. I'd better not let him read what I've written today. It's a bit sappy and thoughtful. He'll probably think I actually do fancy Ashleigh or something. I really don't. She's too froofy. I wish more girls were like Rosie. At least, Rosie when she's not being all froofy too. Right now she's still whispering with Mandy, and they're giggling, and looking over at me. Actually… I think they might be talking about me. Oh, this does not bode well at _all_.

It is night now, and I am about to go to bed. I never did find out if they were talking about me, even though I trailed Rosie all day, trying to find out. She's determined to keep it to herself though. She and Mandy gave each other meaningful glances at the table at dinner. Then, they looked at me and smirked. It was extremely annoying. Scorpius found it perfectly hilarious, of course. His private-joke smile was all over his face, the idiot. I asked him if he knew what they thought was so funny. He said he didn't, but I bet he's in with them. If they play a prank on me or something, I promise my revenge will be great and terrible.

**May 5****th****, 2018**

Roxie keeps wanting to hang around with us. It's really getting irritating. She's fun and everything – and has a really sharp tongue! But she's just not, you know, one of _us_. Lucky she's not a Gryffindor, or she'd be underfoot all day. Molly's a Gryffindor, but she's never had time for us, and still doesn't bother.

Molly's an interesting one. She used to be best mates with Roxie before we came to Hogwarts, but I've noticed that they're been spending less and less time together since. Maybe that's why Roxie's so desperate to hang out with us now! Molly's become mates with Kaydence, I see them together all the time. Kade's a nice bloke. He's rather mellow, and very nondescript looking, but I get the impression from him that there's a lot going on under the surface. Molly's never been much of a talker, so I expect they have that in common. Also, Molly reads a lot of Russian comics, and she's been lending him some to read as well. I think they're friends because they're the same kind of nerd. It's like the way Scorpius is the exact same type of nerd that Rosie and I have always been. We often sit around, discussing magical theory and applying it to stuff. And then Scorpius breaks out _Hogwarts: A History_ and treats us to some lovely facts. After that, I usually tackle him to the ground and make him shut up. I swear he's begun to do that _just_ to annoy me.

Anyway, tonight, the three of us plan to visit the portrait gallery on the seventh floor, and we're going to try our best not to let Roxie find out, because then she'll follow us.

We did manage not to let her follow us. We're back now, and guess what? One of the portraits turned out to be Severus Snape! Apparently he has a portrait up in the Headmistress's Office as well, as well as one in the Hall of Fame for War heroes. He flits between all three as well as wanders around the castle, sneering at people. Dad took me to see his portrait at the Hall of Fame once when I was younger. I didn't like him much back then. But back then, I didn't have Rosie with me to sneer back with aplomb. I love her so much. Also, he was taken aback to see that I was best mates with Draco Malfoy's son. That was amusing.

"Ah," Snape said when we approached, sneer firmly fixed on his face. "I see it's my namesake."

"Er," I said.

"You have all the astounding articulacy of your father," he said to me.

"You have all the astounding scariness of a portrait," Rosie said to him with a disdainful sniff. He glared at her.

"Oh, so Weasley and Granger _did_ spawn, then," he said, lip firmly curled. "Well, I suppose it could be worse. Though it's a pity you got both her hair and his freckles."

"Oooh, that was so witty, Mr. Dead Person in a Painting," said Rosie, blatantly enjoying herself. "Make fun of my physical appearance, why don't you. You're one to talk, anyway, hook-nose!" Then Snape spotted Scorpius.

"You're… Draco's offspring?" he asked, looking almost surprised.

"Yeah," Scorpius answered shyly.

"And you're friends with these… these…"

"Yes," Scorpius said firmly because Snape could finish.

"But… why?"

"Because I like them," said Scorpius simply. I swelled with pride, but didn't show it, because I am stoic and manly.

"But that must mean you are in…" Snape looked a bit green, if a portrait can look green.

"Gryffindor," Scorpius said proudly. Snape looked ill. I thanked my stars I'm not in Slytherin. Thank you Sorting Hat for listening to my pleas!

We left Snape muttering to himself after that, and went to explore further. We found a portrait of a shepherdess with a dog, whose English was totally incomprehensible because of all the thees and thous and eths. She must have been from very, very long ago. Apparently Hogwarts is about a thousand years old, give or take a century or two, which means it probably existed far before English actually became… _English_. Note to self: Ask Scorpius about the historical context in which Hogwarts was founded.

**May 16****th****, 2018**

It's Louis's birthday. He's twelve now too. He's a Hufflepuff, but we're having his party in the Gryffindor common room too. Mostly because Nicky is taking care of it, and she is a Gryffindor. Louis has brought his best friend along with him: Fergus Warrington. I don't quite know how to say this, but FERGUS WARRINGTON IS A SLYTHERIN. I'm extremely shaken by this fact, and almost told Scorpius as much today when I found out he'd be coming, but I thought better of it considering the fact that his dad's a former Slytherin, and it might be offensive to insult Slytherin in front of him – although it's weird to think of it being _offensive_ to make fun of Slytherins. Uncle Ron's been doing it since as far as I can remember.

In fact, Slytherin is a bit of a standing joke in our family, much to Dad's bemusement (which makes much more sense now I know he was almost sent there!) When Hugo and Rosie do something underhanded – they used to change all the clocks in the house and make them five hours too early every Christmas, for example, so that they ended up opening their presents at three AM – Uncle Ron usually says "you rotten bunch of Slytherins!" So you will excuse me if I think it's a bit mad to let a Slytherin into our common room for a party. What if he spies on us?

Rosie has told me that I'm being an idiot, because we're not really planning a coup of any sort. Point duly noted.

Okay, I have observed Warrington surreptitiously for a while, and have come to the conclusion that while he is a Slytherin, he is actually quite a cool guy. I reached this conclusion after James tried to pull his leg by slipping some WWW SpicySalsa Potion ™ into his butterbeer. Warrington not only noticed what James was trying to do, he somehow switched their drinks without James realizing until he'd finished drinking his, and found himself dipping Freddie, who shrieked in terror. James then whirled around, dragging Freddie with him whilst doing very accomplished-looking salsa that I will be watching the memory of in a pensieve any time I need cheering up. Rosie even got a few pictures. Sometimes I wonder why _Rosie_ isn't in Slytherin. I wonder if _she_ asked the hat not to put her in there too. Funnily enough, Scorpius is the least Slytherin of the three of us. The ends usually justify the means for Rosie and me. Scorpius is like our conscience or something. Merlin, we must have been little terrors before we met him. I actually remember being five and stealing Mum's best broomstick one evening. Rosie instigated the whole thing, of course, but I was the one who found the key to the broom cupboard (I learnt to spy at a tender age. It was instinctual). We both got onto one broomstick – Mum's Nimbus 2008 – Rosie on the front, and me hanging on to her for dear life, and flew off somewhere. When we finally got off, I realized I didn't know where we were, and apparently (though I have no recollection of this whatsoever!) I burst into tears and howled for my Mum. I remember a deserted street with a few straggling, poor-looking houses. A Muggle woman with a huge gap between her front teeth walked out of one and tried to ask us where we were from, but she was scary (we were FIVE, okay?) so Rosie and I ran away. Thankfully, my parents had tracking charms on us, as most wizarding parents do in case their kids accidentally apparate or something, so we were found as soon as our parents discovered we were missing. They apparated to where we were and collected us, and then we were sat down with Aunt Hermione for a good "talk," during which it was drilled into our heads that stealing was bad and that our parents were worried about us, and Bad Things could happen if we went off alone. It was excruciating, but luckily I've forgotten most of it.

But we were little angels compared to Jamie and Freddie. They were born on the same day, almost within minutes of each other, and have been practically inseparable since. They have wreaked utter havoc whenever they've had a chance, and James has been horrid to me through all of it, the git. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have Rose to help me get back at him. I'm a bit of a nerd, myself. I bet I'd be a lot quieter if I didn't have Rose to buck me up and make me the evil little almost-Slytherin I am!

Uncle George says James and Freddie remind him of him and his twin brother when they were young/still alive. Uncle George is fun, in a dry, don't-you-ever-cross-me sort of way. I wouldn't believe him about ever being like Jamie and Freddie if it weren't for the portrait of Uncle Fred in the Wheezes shop. He's still about nineteen in the portrait and makes fun of everything. It's hard to imagine Uncle George being at all similar to him though. Although Uncle George says he was _always_ the quiet one, even when Uncle Fred was alive.

"I was always the brains," he says. "And Fred the brawn."

"That's just your way of saying you were the nerd and I was the sexy, muscular one," Uncle Fred usually replies at this point.

Freddie's not much like Uncle Fred. For one thing, Freddie's hilarious, but he's also pretty driven. And he's very sort of fair-minded, and will stick up for weaker people and stuff. (He's never stuck up for _me_, but when I asked him why not, he said he didn't think I was weaker. I wanted to believe him, so I didn't question further).

Then again, I don't think I'm much like Severus Snape at _all_. Or Albus Dumbledore for that matter, although I've never spoken to a portrait of him. Perhaps I should try to find one. I think I might.

**May 24****th****, 2018**

James has been crashing into people a lot during Quidditch practice. I attributed it to the fact that he's a great clumsy oaf, but after he finally succeeded in dislocating his shoulder because he somehow crashed into a goalpost, Madam Chang sent him to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Bones has established that he needs glasses. Now, on one had this is a good thing for him because he'll be more like Dad. On the other, he's going to be a specky, swotty old git and I can make fun of him! I can't wait.

It is evening now. I went to the Hospital Wing this afternoon to crow over James, but there were about five girls crowded around his bed mooning over him, so I came back. I am so disturbed by the fact that my idiot brother is popular. I wonder if he has a girlfriend. I wonder if he's ever _snogged_ someone. Ugh, that's dis_gust_ing. I'm going to go bother Scorpius to distract myself from the image of James sucking face with some _girl_.

Scorpius does not appreciate it when I levitate strands of his hair until he looks like he's floating underwater. I am currently hiding from him behind a suit of armor.

**May 31****st****, 2018**

The exams are beginning to get close. Scorpius is excited. He has gleefully started to make revision timetables for all of us, and plans on visiting the library to find some practice tests. I told him we were first-years and already as magically proficient as any third-year, but he laughed in my face.

I'm glad to report that I have kept up with my studying extremely well, and so I'm quite good at even the subjects I was doing badly in, like Transfiguration. Rosie, of course, is brilliant at everything and puts in the least effort humanly possible.

It is night now. An interesting thing happened today. Scorpius's dad came up to Hogwarts for a visit. Apparently, he had work in Hogsmeade, so he asked the headmistress if he could visit and take Scorpius out for lunch. Scorpius got an owl yesterday saying that his dad was going to come up to Hogwarts for a bit today, so he had Rosie and me stationed with him at the entrance hall at about noon. When his dad arrived, Scorpius gave him a dignified sort of hug (opposed to the way I ordinarily throw myself at Dad, hoping to bowl him over. Dad and I have this thing. Anyway!) and they smiled and I realized that Mr. Malfoy doesn't, in fact, have Scorpius's dimples. But he looks nice anyway. He has a very calm sort of understanding look about him, as though he's seen a lot and accepts things the way they are.

After they greeted each other, Scorpius and his dad turned towards Rosie and me, and Scorpius introduced us. Mr. Malfoy smiled his nice, patient-looking smile and repeated our names as Scorpius said them.

"Albus!" he said. "Rose. It's very good to meet you both, especially after all I've heard about the two of you!" he glanced fondly at Scorpius as he said this.

"All good things, I hope, sir?" Rosie said, twinkling up at him in the way that all grown-ups love so much. Rosie milks her twinkle for all it's worth.

"Very much so," smiled Mr. Malfoy. "It's interesting to see you and my Scorpius, friends."

"You and Dad were enemies at Hogwarts, weren't you?" I added like an idiot, because I'm absolute rubbish at sucking up to _anyone_. But honestly, his expression at King's Cross when he saw us get off the train with Scorpius!

"We were enemies all right," Mr. Malfoy said. "But after I heard how nice you and Rose were to my boy, first Gryffindor in the family and going off to Hogwarts all alone – "

"_Dad_," muttered Scorpius, going red.

"Well, one must grow up eventually," Mr. Malfoy said. "Your dad and I have been out for drinks a couple of times since you kids got back to school, Albus, and though _your_ Dad and I will probably never have anything in common," he indicated Rose, "Hermione and I have struck up a good correspondence regarding Centaur laws as they stand, and we think we may work together sometime in the near future."

Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention – Scorpius's dad was the first Legal, which is the wizarding world's equivalent of lawyers. He did away with the obsolete way that cases were tried, with only the Wizengamot calling all the shots. I don't quite understand how it works, but apparently it was a brilliant step forward and now Mr. Malfoy's hailed as something of a pioneer. And to think I didn't know any of this before I befriended Scorpius, even though Auntie Hermione works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! Growing up with James probably affected my cerebral development.


End file.
